The Truth
by RainThestral93
Summary: George knows that Fred is gone. Forever. And he isn't coming back. But this doesn't make his day to day struggle with the loss of his twin any easier; which is why a drunken night at the Three Broomsticks resulting in some very bad karaoke is excusable. Only just, though.


**The Truth**

**Summary**: George knows that Fred is gone. Forever. And he isn't coming back. But this doesn't make his day to day struggle with the loss of his twin any easier; which is why a drunken night at the Three Broomsticks resulting in some very bad karaoke is excusable. Only just, though.

* * *

"You coming George?" Bill popped his head round the door of the inventing room – the place where George holed himself away day by day rather than face the wonder that he and his twin had created. Ron was now in charge of managing the shop; and Charlie helped whenever he was on vacation from Romania (which was more frequently, now that he had been promoted to head Dragon Tamer). Hermione helped occasionally too, but more often than not she was tied up in some complicated drama at the Ministry with Harry for they were both Aurors; working to track down remaining supporters of Voldemort, and have them thrown in Azkaban or sentenced to the Dementor's kiss.

George looked up from the latest concoction he'd been working on, and nodded, his eyes clouded over with thought. He'd been working on an aphrodisiac potion that Fred had concocted just before his death, and he wanted to perfect it before it was put out for public consumption. "Sure, give me just two seconds to clean up."

It was a Friday; which meant drinks at the Three Broomsticks for the Weasley children, and Harry and Hermione and their respective dates. It was a routine which the closely knit family had found themselves adhering to in the aftermath of the war – a coping strategy, if you liked. It was a guaranteed date, set in stone, where the family members and friends could spend time with one another without fear that someone wouldn't be able to make it. You weren't allowed to cancel on Friday pub night, put it that way.

George buttoned up his red checked shirt without looking in a mirror to fix his hair. Running his hands through it, he brushed his teeth, ignoring the reflective surface in the way he'd perfected over the past two years. Looking into a mirror was like looking at his twin, and George couldn't handle that. Which was why he relied on his sister, Ginny, to tell him when he looked truly shocking, and needed a new haircut, or shirt.

"Ready?" Hermione smiled fondly at George as he took the steps down from his flat two at a time. The redhead nodded, and Hermione took his hand gingerly in her own. She'd found comfort in George in the aftermath of the war; and the two were often mistaken for lovers, even though they'd shared no more romantic interaction other than the occasional drunken snog. They were friends – one another's support network for when the other needed a shoulder to cry, or a crutch to help them get by. Some would expect Ron to be jealous of Hermione's relationship with his twin; but their own relationship was now nothing more than the platonic friendship it had always been, and Ron was dating Lavendar Brown, and had been for the better part of a year.

His and Hermione's conflicting ideals and personalities meant they spent the greater part of their relationship arguing, ergo it had lasted no longer than seven short months – much to the disappointment of Molly Weasley, who had been expecting the two to be joined in matrimony just like Harry and Ginny had, shortly after the way.

Ginny was currently very much volatile – due to her protruding stomach and inability to consume Firewhisky. Settling for Pumpkin Juice, she was scowling until Hermione approached the pregnant witch, enveloping the redhead in an affectionate hug.

"Hermione! I see you as little as I do my husband these days," she glowered at Harry, who at least had the decency to look sheepish, "How's work?"

"Hellish," Hermione replied, "We've not been getting anywhere, and with Kingsley breathing down our necks every two seconds, it's a wonder I get up in the morning. How are you?" The brunette indicated to the swollen bump.

"Fat." Ginny groaned. "And tired. And I bloody want a drink, too."

"Aww it's only a month more, Ginny," Hermione consoled the witch, telling the redhead what she wanted to hear, given that Harry was most likely to be useless when it came to dealing with an angry Ginny.

"I guess. What are you having?"

"I'll have a Butterbeer," Hermione told the barman, turning her attention to George. "What are you having?"

"Firewhisky. You might as well leave the bottle," he sighed, slumping against the bar.

"What's up with him?" Ginny nodded at her brother, none too subtly.

"Ginny," Hermione hissed, "Be nice. It's two years since Fred, you know," and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"He's my brother too, you know. I don't see why he doesn't just get on with his life."

George, having heard enough of his sister's ministrations about his life, grabbed the bottle of whisky Rosmerta had left by him, and went to sit at a secluded table in a darkened corner, drowning his sorrows in the bitter substance.

Hermione found him, drunk and crying silent tears half an hour or so later.

George pulled her into the booth next to him. "It's so hard."

Hermione stroked his hair, brushing tears away from his eyes and feeling her heart beat in her very chest for the pained wizard. "I know it does George. It hurt all of us – but we're learning to cope with it. Just because he's gone doesn't mean we're going to forget him. But I doubt Fred wants you to get all upset whenever you think of him. Remember the good times." She instructed him, kindly.

George looked at her, his blue eyes half empty, as if he was missing a part of his soul.

"I've tried, Hermione, but I can't. I can't let go of him, and it's killing me."

A small tear escaped Hermione's own tear duct, and she didn't stop George as he got drunkenly to his feet, pacing across the bustling room, and clambering to the stage, taking the microphone in his shaking hand.

His voice cracked at first on the opening line, but slowly and steadily he started to sing, looking above the heads of all the assembled people, if he was trying to pretend they weren't there or he was singing to some imaginary figure.

_Lyin' next to you_

_Wishing I could disappear, hey_

_Let you fall asleep_

_And vanish out into thin air, hey_

_It's the elephant in the room_

_And we pretend that we don't see it_

_It's the avalanche that looms_

_Above our heads, but we don't believe it_

_Tryin' to be perfect_

_Tryin' not to let you down, yeah_

_Honesty is honestly_

_The hardest thing for me right now, yeah_

George looked at Hermione; the tears now coursing freely down his cheeks, leaving torrents of saltwater to drip down his face and dampen his shirt. The pain in his eyes couldn't even be described, and Hermione felt herself push through the throngs of people, never taking her eyes off the redheaded man on the stage.

_While the floors underneath our feet are crumblin'_

_The walls we built together tumblin'_

_I still stand here holdin' up the roof_

'_Cause it's easier than telling the truth_

_I still keep your photographs_

_I remember how we used to laugh_

_I can keep on losin' sleep_

_If you're okay with being torn in half_

On the line "I remember how we used to laugh", George sunk to his knees, beating the floor in his drunken state. The room had fallen silent as they listened to him. Drinks hovered halfway to mouths, and anecdotes were paused mid-sentence.

_Stop ignoring that our hearts are mourning_

_And let the rain come in_

_Stop pretending that it's not ending_

_And let the end begin, oh yeah_

_Tryin' to be perfect,_

_Tryin' not to let you down, yeah_

_Honesty is honestly_

_The hardest thing for me right now, yeah_

_While the floors underneath our feet are crumblin'_

_The walls we built together tumblin'_

_I still stand here holdin' up the roof_

'_Cause it's easier than telling the truth_

_It's easier than telling the truth_

_Lyin' next to you_

_Wishing I could disappear, hey_

_Let you fall asleep_

Fred broke down, the tears turning into waterfalls, and it took Bill and Harry to hoist him off the stage. Hermione's arms were waiting; as always, for the moment when he would finally realise that Fred was gone.

And as sad as it was, he wasn't going to be coming back…

* * *

**A/N**: A bit angsty, I know... but the song is very good; worth listening to if you haven't heard it, and oh-so-fitting. Reviews would be lovely - Beth :) xx


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